A Christmas With Sherlock
by CretianStar
Summary: Somewhat fluffy, no definitely fluffy little Christmas Episode with Sherlock, John and Molly.


A/N: Christmas festivity has hit me HARD but hey the little tinsel fairy can stay as long as she likes with my muse! So this is sickeningly sweet but like I care, it had to be done! Enjoy and Review!

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"Sherlock, help me put up the lights." John stared at the insufferable man as he texted, an intermittent moaning message alert.

"Sherlock get up now." Molly Hooper pinned another garland into place and rolled her eyes.

"No."

"Irene would help." Molly grinned as he tensed at the Doctor's teasing tone.

"We're cheering up your flat Sherlock." John reminded him as they strung tinsel across the door way while the loathsome scrooge sat in his armchair completely uncaring.

"I do not care for Christmas." Sherlock refused to move.

"Well I do." Molly said yanking him upright. "I found you this flat, YOU help decorate it." She threw his phone to the other sofa and handed him a plug. John was hiding a grin at the bewildered Sherlock as Molly carried on winding the tinsel around the rather bereft Christmas tree.

"We're coming to yours this Christmas anyway Sherlock." John chuckled as his flat mate somewhat dazedly plugged the next set of lights in. "Mrs Hudson's visiting her sister this year. So Molly and I have forsaken our families." The pair smirked. "For you, while the media still believes you're dead we're going to bring Christmas to you." Sherlock looked less than amused and opened his mouth when Molly beckoned him over for another task.

"I'd rather you didn't spend Christmas with me." Sherlock said stiffly as Molly balanced on his arm to put the angel on the top. "Where did you two get all these decorations?" Sherlock looked at the Doctor who saved his life, and for once let her win, she saw the break in his usually emotionless demeanour and he started to join in the flat decoration without too many complaints.

Christmas Day was the same sort of affair; an almost begrudging respect for the friendship foisted upon him by the two people closest people he had.

Molly and John had sorted the turkey, Sherlock hadn't wanted to tell them as a child he usually had swan but he kept his mouth shut for once. He even endured John's horrible Christmas jumper, Molly's tipsy laugh and the paper hat they forced onto his head. At one point Sherlock decided enough was enough and opened the Port that Mycroft had sent him this year and drank a veritable amount; enough for him to join in the festivities. The finished the dinner, they served desserts, the wine was soon empty, the remainder of the port shared around, the three of them now swaying as they dumped the washing up for Boxing Day. The remainder of the meat was put into the fridge by Molly who quite frankly saw two fridges and left the remains of the plates skewed on the table before retiring to his poky, yet festive lounge.

They watched the Queen's Christmas speech and sat down for the usual crappy movies shown on BBC; Sherlock on his armchair, Molly in a nest of pillows on the floor, John on the couch already asleep from the wine.

As Miracle on 34th Street started, Molly rolled over to watch the slightly drunk Sherlock staring raptly at the screen.

"You've never seen this?" She smiled lazily as his gaze flicked to her and back at the screen.

"Shush." His one word reply made her laugh and she snuggled into the blankets, feeling the mulled wine roll around in her system and she laughed.

"Is this how you always did Christmas?" Molly heard him ask softly.

"Always." She looked up from the nest to see an almost wistful look on his face.

"We'd be reading Latin texts by now." He smiled and Molly stumbled to his seat from her cosy makeshift bed. She flumped down on his lap, faintly surprised he hadn't pushed her off.

"Well we can make Christmas every year like this." She smiled and tucked her head into his shoulder, feeling Sherlock lean back with his arm on her back.

"Will you though?" He whispered as she started to fall asleep again.

"Of course I will, Sherlock, you trusted me enough to save your life, you can believe I'll make Christmas gaudy, tacky, over the top but still cheerfully festive." She murmured into his throat as he absent mindedly stroked circles onto her spine.

"Then you're welcome every Christmas." He smiled and the pair fell asleep, missing the end of Miracle of 34th Street.


End file.
